


Good Porches Make Good Neighbors

by Dancing_Adrift, zubeneschamali



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: I blame Twitter, M/M, national something day, no zucchini were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift/pseuds/Dancing_Adrift, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali
Summary: Jensen's getting more and more aggravated at his neighbor. Can't the guy take a hint? Jensen simply doesn’t need any of the man's zucchini.





	Good Porches Make Good Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by National Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day (August 8) and some nagging people, I mean friends, on Twitter. Also, this fits the "food and cooking" square on my trope_bingo card.
> 
> Most importantly, dancing_adrift made this lovely art, so I had to produce something, too. And then she was nice enough to beta for me, too, _and_ add to the art (see below); how awesome is that?

Jensen opens the front door and yawns. Really, he should finish his first cup of coffee before he goes out to get the paper. It's not like he's going to be able to read any of the words until he puts in his contacts, and that's better done after a jolt of caffeine. But here he is anyway, and he bends down to pick up the paper. 

And he stops.

There's something next to his rolled-up newspaper. Something long and green, and he squints at it for a moment before he picks it up.

It takes a moment for the synapses to fire—he's only had a few sips of coffee—but when they do, Jensen's hand clenches around the zucchini. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, lifting his head to look around.

The house across the street from him is quiet, no lights on. Jensen wishes he had his contacts in, but he's pretty sure he sees the curtains in the front room moving. He brandishes the zucchini in front of him like a warning before turning around and stomping into his house, slamming the door behind him.

A moment later, Jensen opens the door again to retrieve his newspaper.

Inside, he drops the zucchini onto the counter and takes a long gulp of coffee. "Son of a bitch," he says more loudly, looking through the window over the sink into his backyard. 

Tomatoes are hanging, fat and red, from the plants winding their way up through their wire cages. The green beans need to be picked, and the basil needs to be snipped before it starts flowering. Behind the beans, four zucchini plants sprawl across the ground, laden with long green fruits even bigger in size than the one sitting on Jensen's counter.

He glares at the innocent fruit and downs the rest of his coffee. How early is he going to have to get up to return the favor tomorrow morning? He's tried telling his overgrown puppy dog of a neighbor that he doesn't need any zucchini, thank you. Puppy Dog insisted that vegetables were good for him, and when Jensen snapped back that zucchini was a fruit and not a vegetable, hadn't he _seen_ the flowers on the vines, the sad hangdog expression he got in response made Jensen's moniker for him even more appropriate.

The mailbox has some long name with a P on it, but that was all Jensen had ever noticed in the six months he's been here, so Puppy Dog stuck in his mind. He doesn't have time to get to know his neighbors, after all. He has a train to catch every morning, and a lot of yard work and housework to do on the weekends, and he doesn't mind if everyone else in the cul-de-sac thinks their new neighbor is an antisocial grump. To be fair, he _is_ , so it’s only right they should have an accurate assessment of him. 

And if they keep leaving unwanted produce on his porch, he's definitely going to earn that reputation.

 

It turns out that 5:30 A.M. isn't early enough. 

Jensen's waiting at the front door, blearily looking through the window, when Puppy Dog bounds out the front door of his house with an actual dog in tow. Jensen can't tell which one of them looks more excited to be outside. They take off at a brisk run down the street towards the main road, and Jensen perks up. Maybe this is his chance, while Puppy Dog is out—

The door across the street opens again, and a petite woman with dark hair steps out. She sits on the porch swing and tucks her legs under her, sipping from a mug.

"Damn it," Jensen mutters, dropping his forehead against the door. Of course his hot neighbor is straight and taken. Because while Jensen might not know much about his neighbors, he knows that the guy across the street looks really good mowing the lawn with his shirt off, or painting the house with his shirt off, or going for a jog with his shirt off, or—

"Anyway," Jensen says sternly to himself. He looks at the bag of zucchini next to the front door, ready to go out and be deposited on the porch across the street. He'll have to take them to work and leave them in the break room. Maybe if he takes an earlier train, he'll get there before Samantha claims the counter as a place to drop off her produce, and she'll have to bring hers back later. 

He’s starting to get desperate. There's only so much zucchini bread he can fit in his freezer, and he doesn't really think they make a good substitute for pasta noodles. Zucchini parmesan had been good the first time, but a whole pan of it meant he was sick of it within a week. And throwing it away is just wrong. He can't do that.

Apparently, his neighbor can’t, either, because when Jensen finally opens the door around 7 A.M., there are two long green fruits on his doormat.

"Son of a bitch!"

Across the street, the dark-haired woman's head snaps up. She's still sitting on the swing, even though Puppy Dog must have come back from his run by now. Jensen glares at her as he shuts the door behind him. He deliberately steps over the zucchini before going down the porch stairs to his car and driving away. He isn't going to waste his _own_ produce, but he has no problem discarding another man's zucchini.

That night, when Jensen gets home, there are no fruits on his porch, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Someone has finally gotten the message. He'd been able to hand off his own surplus at work, and it will be a couple of days before he has to harvest any more. Next summer, he’s cutting back to two plants. Maybe just one.

The front door safely closed behind him, Jensen loosens his tie and puts his briefcase down next to the door. There's leftover ratatouille in the fridge (with a larger portion of you-know-what than the recipe calls for), some chocolate you-know-what bread on the counter, and a local pale ale that Jensen's been waiting to try. He's just glad no one has thought of making zucchini beer yet, although the raw ingredients would definitely be cheap.

He's about to head to the kitchen when there's a knock on the door. Spinning around, he looks through the window to see Puppy Dog standing there.

"Oh great," Jensen mutters. Putting on his best "hello now please fuck off" smile, he opens the door.

"Hi!" His neighbor waves. "Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to apologize."

Jensen raises a cool eyebrow. "For what?"

"For the, uh, the zucchini." Puppy Dog gives a sheepish shrug. "Gen said you looked kinda mad about it this morning. I thought it was funny, but I guess it wasn't, and I'm sorry."

Jensen blinks at him. It's a completely adequate apology, covering all of the bases, and that actually takes him aback.

The kicked puppy look is back. "So, anyway, sorry to bother you. I'll just—" he jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

"No, it's okay. Um, thanks." Jensen steps back, surprised to hear himself say, "Do you want to come in?"

He hesitates, looking over his shoulder.

Jensen gives him a tight smile. "Never mind. It's okay."

He moves to close the door, and Puppy Dog's hand shoots out to block it, and _wow_ , does he have a nice forearm that Jensen doesn't at all want to lick. "No, I do, it's just—give me a sec." He holds up a finger. "Don't go anywhere."

Jensen watches as he bounds off the front porch, long legs carrying him across Jensen's yard, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jensen's mailbox, and up his own sidewalk. He sticks his head inside the front door and yells something. A moment later, he's bounding back, grinning. "Okay."

Jensen steps aside to let him in. "Sorry if I made your wife uncomfortable this morning. I didn't mean to upset her."

Puppy Dog stops in the doorway, his head almost brushing the lintel. "My what?"

"Your wife." Jensen frowns. "Or girlfriend?"

He stares for a moment longer and then throws his head back on a laugh. Jensen adds that neck, faintly glistening with sweat, to the list of things he doesn't want to lick. "No, no, she's just a friend," he finally says. "She needed a place to stay for a couple of days."

"Oh!" Jensen suddenly feels better. He closes the door behind – "I’m sorry, I can't remember your first name," he says.

"It's Jared." Jared sticks out a hand.

Jensen automatically takes it, pleased to notice how those long fingers wrap around his own. "Hi," he says, his voice suddenly a little lower. 

He can see the line of Jared's throat move as he swallows. "Hi." 

A little thrill runs through Jensen's belly. "So, uh, I should apologize, too," he says, wondering how long he can get away with keeping his hand in Jared's. 

"For what?" Jared looks puzzled, forehead wrinkling into a frown.

Jensen reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. "I might have kind of overreacted this morning. I just—I have so much of the stuff myself, I have a hard enough time using it up."

"You've got a garden?" Jared asks.

For answer, Jensen gestures towards the back of the house. Jared lets go of his hand and strides over to look out the sliding doors in the living room. "Wow," he says. "Those tomatoes look awesome."

"They're pretty good," Jensen says. "Do you have some in your yard?"

Jared's grin is sheepish. "I, um. I figured I'd start small with just one crop."

Raising his eyebrows, Jensen asks, "How many zucchini did you plant?"

"Um. Ten?"

Jensen's eyebrows go higher. "Shit."

Jared almost giggles. "I know, right? But it was a dry spring, and I figured I'd do something wrong along the way and they wouldn't all survive. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"No wonder you're leaving them on random people's porches," Jensen replies.

"No, it was National Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day." Jared holds up his fingers in what Jensen vaguely recognizes as the Boy Scout salute. 

A wicked thought occurs to Jensen, and he can't help a small snort that escapes.

Jared frowns again. "What?"

"No, never mind. Sorry." 

"No, what is it?"

The kicked puppy dog look is back, and from this close, Jensen is helpless to resist it. "I'm sorry. My brain makes these totally inappropriate double entendres sometimes, and I don't really know you that well, so it's kind of awkward to admit it."

Jared pauses, gaze shifting off to the side like he's thinking about something. A moment later, he turns a sly grin on Jensen that has that little swoop in his belly happening again. "Hey baby, can I sneak my zucchini onto your back porch?"

Jensen tries to keep a straight face, but Jared's over-the-top seductive tone has him snorting before breaking out into laughter, head thrown back and everything.

When he looks at Jared again, he stops, frozen. Jared is looking at him like he's been stunned, and a few seconds pass before he shakes his head. "Sorry," he says with a small smile. "You just—you have a really nice laugh."

"And you've only ever seen me be a grump before," Jensen says with a smirk. 

"Yeah, pretty much." It’s a flip response, but Jared still looks like he's seriously re-evaluating his entire life.

A moment passes, and then another. Finally, Jared takes a step towards him, slowly looking Jensen up and down. "The thing is, I've been wanting to get to know you basically ever since you moved in."

Jensen moistens his lips. "You seem like the kind of guy who wants to know all the neighbors."

"No. I mean, yes, but that's not what I mean." Jared's within a few steps now, and he finally meets Jensen's eyes again. "I mean, I want to get to _know_ you."

"Oh!" That flutter in Jensen's belly is back, though it's definitely moving south, and he takes his own step forward. "Just to be sure: no wife? No girlfriend?"

Jared's close enough to touch, and he shakes his head, brown hair flying. "Never had either one," he says.

"Me neither," Jensen responds, and there's just enough time to hear Jared's muttered, "oh good," before their mouths are crashing together.

Jensen's been secretly watching his neighbor for months now, and from what Jared said, he might well have been doing the same. So it's no surprise that Jared's unbuttoning Jensen's shirt after only a couple of minutes of deep, wet kisses. Jensen yanks Jared's shirt over his head in response, and when they press against each other, the twin groans they let out suggest they're both about halfway there already.

"Bedroom's down the hall," Jensen mutters against Jared's mouth, starting to back up.

"I know," Jared murmurs against his lips. "We have the same floor plan."

"Damn cul-de-sac," Jensen returns.

Jared snickers, mouth already working its way down Jensen's neck.

Jensen appreciates a man who knows what he wants and how to go for it, and before he knows it, they're rolling around naked in his bed, both hard and ready to go. When Jensen pulls out a condom and lube from the nightstand drawer and holds them up questioningly, Jared points at him. 

Jensen grins. He's not about to question that.

He takes what feels like an endless amount of time prepping Jared, partially to torment him but mostly to make it good for him. Jared's already writhing under his fingers, and when Jensen finally slips on the condom and lines himself up, there's sweat along his collarbone and his cheeks are flushed red.

Jared looks up at him and smirks. "C'mon already. Give me that zucchini."

Jensen stops right where he is, just the tip inside Jared. "I can walk away from this right now," he threatens, pointing towards the door.

Jared locks his ankles together behind Jensen's back and _pushes_ , and Jensen slides in with one long groan. "Oh, fuck," he breathes out.

"That's the idea," Jared retorts. 

He raises an eyebrow before planting his hands on either side of Jared's head. "If that's what you want, neighbor," he growls, pleased to see the way Jared's eyes go dark.

Jensen snaps his hips back and then forward in a long, slow glide. It seems impossible that Jared is already so open for him, but he's not complaining. There's no discomfort visible on Jared's face, only arousal and delight as he arches back and somehow takes Jensen in even deeper.

And then Jensen really goes at it, thrusting hard and deep, watching Jared's face as he adjusts his angle until he can tell he's hit the right spot. Jared's clutching at his back, pulling him closer, and Jensen ducks his head to press their mouths together.

He can feel it when Jared comes, from the way his mouth goes slack to the way he tightens around Jensen's cock to the way even his feet go tense and then relax. Jensen takes it in for a moment, watches those blue-green eyes flutter open, and then he gives one last thrust before shuddering and shaking himself.

He comes down about as fast as he went up, withdrawing and tying off the condom to drop it in the bedside trash can before flopping onto the pillow next to Jared. For his part, Jared is staring up at the ceiling, still drawing in deeper than normal breaths, still faintly glistening with sweat. 

Jensen's definitely going to lick that off of him at some point.

"All right?" he asks.

"Awesome," Jared gives a thumbs up before rolling his head to the side to look at Jensen. "It's true what they say about the quiet ones."

Jensen gives Jared's shoulder a shove. "I don't know, the loud ones are pretty wild, too, it seems."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll show you wild," Jared replies, shifting onto his side to put his head on Jensen's shoulder.

"I like the sound of that," Jensen kind of wants to run his hand through Jared's hair to see if it really is that soft, but that might make Jared think he's a cuddly kind of guy, and—

Jared drapes his leg over Jensen's waist and his arm over Jensen's chest, snuggling in deeper against Jensen's neck.

Jensen sighs and puts a hand on Jared's hair. _If you can't beat 'em, join 'em._

He wonders if he'll be able to sneak out in the morning to put a bag of tomatoes on Jared's porch. And maybe one solitary zucchini.


End file.
